


No Place Like Home

by platypusesrneat



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusesrneat/pseuds/platypusesrneat
Summary: John is selling their farm, and Peter is looking to buy. But Stiles doesn’t want to let go of his home, even to handsome guys who stare at his ass.Takes place in my home state of Kentucky.





	No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a day late, I know. I was very busy yesterday, so sorry. But here’s the beginning to my Kentucky Steter fic!

”Dad, is that man really comin’ to take ‘way our land?”

John sighs, obviously tired by the incessant questions. Stiles paid no mind to the exasperation of his father, though—he’s anxious and curious, a dangerous mix with his ADHD addled brain. 

Besides, he lives here too. He deserves to know.

“Yeah, son. And this money’s gonna take care of all those medical bills, so don’t you cause him any problems, ya hear?”

“Yessir,” Stiles grumbles, picking at a hangnail in dismay.

The land is his home. The place where he and Scott would go into the trees and play pretend, the place where his mom taught him how to climb a tree and then patched him up when he clumsily fell out of it. He’s never lived anywhere else, and he foolishly never thought about ever having to move.

They do need the money, though. With his mother developing frontotemporal dementia, there were CAT scans and medications and at the end, funeral costs.

“What’ll we do with the animals while we’re staying with Mrs. McCall? Surely we ain’t selling them too!”

A stern look from his father quiets him. The livestock, too? The cows, the goats—hell, even their mean spirited thoroughbred, Angus? And not a thing he can do.

At Stiles’s expression, his face softens up.

“It won’t be so bad. With all the money from this, I’ll probably be able to make it home in time for supper. Just like I used to.”

Stiles nods, because he does miss that. But it doesn’t do much to cheer him up.

“We’re gonna be alright, Stiles. Just you see, we’re gonna be alright.”

* * *

 

A month passes. Stiles forgets that he’s going to lose his home for a little bit, too caught up in working and playing. Its summer, so he’s off from school.

There’s a lot to do on the farm. He wakes up at eight every morning to feed and water the animals. Stiles also throws in a couple apples from the tree into Angus’s stall.

Angus was his mother’s horse from his dad, back when they got engaged. At the time, Angus was the sweetest colt in the field, prancing around and playing with the others. He had a good lineage, too, and grew up to win many a race in derbies, but never in any big ones. His mother treasured him as he grew, and the horse showed it.

After she passed, though, he became violent. Never let anyone touch him, let alone ride him. He would get violent with the other animals too, and it was only after begging his father did he decide to not put the horse down.

After working with the animals, Stiles headed back to the house, confused when an expensive looking car pulled up in their gravel driveway. He thinks they’re just turning around until the door opens and out comes a well dressed man.

“Is the owner of the property around?”

Stiles gapes at him for a second before the man raises an eyebrow and causes him to sputter out a response.

“Uhh, yeah, lemme go get ‘im.”

So Stiles goes and wakes his dad up, saying there’s a “weird man that won’t go away.” John doesn’t look surprised, just tired. He puts on a serious face—one Stiles hasn’t seen for a while now, the type that lets you know that something bad is about to happen.

“Come with me.”

“What’s going on? I thought—you said we had until August!”

John ignores him, making his way outside with that stern expression still plastered on his face, leaving Stiles feeling hollow and shaken.

Is it so easy to sell the things he once shared with Claudia? Her horse, too, that used to love her as much as John did? He doesn’t know what to do with these thoughts, so he just stands there for a moment. Wills down the tears threatening to spill and follows after his father.

John is telling the man about the property when Stiles returns.

“It’s a lotta land. Good for farming, too. Got a few acres of corn, couple of blueberry patches, and a little wheat over yonder. We switch it up every couple years. Oh, Peter, this is my son. He helps me around here, ain’t that right?”

“Yessir,” Stiles dutifully replies, a little uncomfortable with the blatant appraisal. Peter is eyeing him like a piece of meat, and while it isn’t necessarily a hardship to be looked at like that by such a handsome man, it is...invasive.

For all that Peter is admiring his gangly, awkward body, he also seems to be picking Stiles apart. Like he’s a mystery or something; a puzzle that he feels compelled to solve.

“And how do you assist your father...,” Peter begins to ask.

“Stiles. I just...take care of the animals and keep Angus from having a hissy fit.” When he’s given a confused look, Stiles elaborates. “He’s a horse.”

“Why not just sell him, if he’s so much trouble?”

“Nah, he was mom’s favorite. ‘Course, have’ta sell him now that we’re moving.”

“We can’t bring animals to where we’re going,” John interjects with a glare, and then that conversation is over.

Stiles ends up having to show Peter around after John gets called in by the station. It becomes apparent after less than twenty minutes of walking that Peter isn’t used to being on a farm, or farms in general, which makes Stiles even  _ more  _ confused about why a city Person like Peter would want a country farm.

He decides to just ask.

“So, what made you want to buy a farm?”

Peter obviously isn’t accustomed to random invasive questions, but Stiles isn’t embarrassed when faced with the amused look that follows.

“I plan on farming it. That is what farms are for, correct?”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Well,  _ yeah _ , but why? You obviously have no clue what you’re doing.”

Peter hums.

“I suppose the buy was an impulse. I certainly never planned on buying a farm, even less so work it myself.”

“You bought our entire property, house and all, on  _ impulse? _ You’re crazy. No one has enough money to blow that much on impulse,” he sputters, eyes comically wide.

A grin twists at Peter’s lips, bringing a light to his eyes that looks almost otherworldly. They’re a pretty blue, and Stiles wonders silently whether or not it’s inappropriate to admire them so close, but, well. Peter’s doing the same thing to Stiles.

Suddenly, his words bring Stiles back to the present.

“And if I do?”

“Then you’re not paying us enough.”

The laugh he gets in return gives Stiles a warm feeling. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe—just maybe.


End file.
